


Reflections

by callmeflo



Series: Brittle Bones [2]
Category: Those Who Went Missing
Genre: Gen, shifting seasons event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26794216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeflo/pseuds/callmeflo
Summary: This is the second autumn since he was unwittingly transformed.
Series: Brittle Bones [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653349





	Reflections

The room is silent. There are no birds here to chirrup and sing, no badgers to rummage in the shed twigs, no majestic stags to amble between the trees. So deep is he in a wing of his own creation, there’s not even an esk within hearing distance.

It’s desolate and dismal, but for now it’s better than home.

Time moves oddly in the Conservatory, where spirits walk unhindered and the laws of the earth have no effect. The forest Fell has made here is mostly evergreen, sure, but below are smaller birches and maple shrubs with soft leaves, eager to yellow and turn crunchy and tumble to the forest floor. 

He doesn’t let them. Seasons do not cycle here except on an esk’s whim, and though he can feel the days pass as if there’s a clock inside his head, knows that summer is withdrawing in the northern hemisphere right now, he has retreated here to hide within the lush foliage - he doesn’t think he can bare to watch it wither and die.

This is the second autumn since he was unwittingly transformed. It feels at once like just a week ago and also fifty years; the decimated forest is not beginning it’s recovery yet, and sometimes he wonders if it ever will.

Metres below, a trickling creek has carved itself a hollow in the dirt and created a small pond. It’s bordered already with reeds and mosses, aquatic plants spilling into its depths, a young lily just opening its first pad on the water’s surface. When he looks directly down he is greeted with his own face in the mirror’s reflection; short fur as green as healthy pine needles, wings tucked close and groomed neatly, collar of twigs bristling and tangled. 

His eyes are black and beady like a bird’s, but curved downward in a perpetual sorrow he struggles to break through. He watches himself as he mimics a sigh, letting the remnants of the nest shuffle and resettle, spreading to reach over his back and creep up to his face. It looks like he’s trapped.

Ikkit doesn’t visit the Conservatory, which Fell is grateful for. Though he understands the Wanderer’s anger and spite, empathises with him and spent several months working beside him, he is weary of it. He much prefers the tranquility of this lush, fake forest, would rather huddle upon a branch, bookended by his blackbird familiars, and while away time.

That’s not to say he doesn't appreciate the gift of life he was granted, however - before is a strange haze of dull sensations and vague familiarities, but now he can experience the world properly, both the good and bad. He gets to feel the soft snowfall resting on his branches, the warmth of feathers pressed against his side, the whistling wind catching on his tail. He gets to watch the merle swoop and flutter amongst the clouds, the chipmunks arguing over their hoards of acorns, the deciduous leaves shifting their colours.

And one day, his boundary will be regrown, thriving, flourishing, and he can appreciate all of these things in his home, with no need to withdraw into another world.

**Author's Note:**

> shifting seasons event: inner reflections entry
> 
> Base Score: 10 AP (Writing: 526 words)  
> +1 AP (Small Familiar/Swarm: 1 AP * 1)  
> +5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)  
> +5 AP (Event Bonus)  
> Total AP per submission: 21
> 
> Base Score: 5 GP (Writing: 526 words)  
> +1 GP (Small Familiar/Swarm: 1 GP * 1)  
> +2 GP (Event Bonus)  
> Total GP per submission: 8


End file.
